A Day In The Life...

I will start this whole thing off with an example.

One of the admin staff downstairs, a nice enough woman, came upstairs to deliver something today. She walked past my office and I could see that she was wearing a pair of black, high heeled boots. Not expensive boots, but probably reasonably priced. They looked to be real leather and had nice little straps and buckles across the ankle and at the top of the shaft.

I noticed this in a flash, took it all in, because I am a pervert. A pervert of a very specific kind. I have a deep and binding fetish for women wearing boots. This blog is about my fetish.

So the admin walked past my office and up the hallway. I felt absolutely compelled to get up and follow her up the hall, discretely, just to get another look at her in her boots. I could not help myself. So I grabbed some paper and headed towards the copier, a route that would take me right past her.

Nice boots indeed, matched up with black hose, a denim skirt, and a nice black sweater. She was leaning into an office, asking a question or delivering a message. I could watch her from the copier out of the corner of my eye. Then she headed back towards the elevator. I watcher he walk away, eyes on not on her butt, where other men might have focused, but on her boots.

Even now my mind is quietly working no an excuse to go down to her area of the building. I know her. She knows me. I can find a plausible reason to be down there. I want to see her in those boots again, maybe even compliment her on them and ask if they are new. (They are new, I can tell.)

And that is all.

I am not going to stalk her, follow her home, or do anything creepy. As strong as my fetish is, it does not include annoying somebody or imposing my presence on them, and I certainly do not want to make anybody feel nervous or uncomfortable.

I probably won't mention her boots again, ever. Just one compliment. I allow myself that and nothing more.

I just love the site of women in boots. I won't deny that there is a sexual element to this desire, the name of this blog almost demands that there be such, and we'll get to that in future posts. But now I just want to start off with the hold that boots have over me.

And the funny thing is that now that this woman has worn boots today, she will find that I will be more helpful, more attentive, and go further out of my way to help her than I might have previously, even if she is not wearing boots. In my mind she has been temporarily tagged as a wearer of boots. A couple of more times and she will have that association made permanent. That will color my relationship with her, to her benefit and without her likely suspecting, from this time forward, even though things will remain on a completely professional level.

Another day at the office for the man with the serious boot fetish.